


flesh, electricity, bone

by haloud



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying, Gen, Manga Spoilers, Mental Health Issues, but can be read as romantic if you want, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7885285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even as children, Yumi served as the bridge that kept them all together.  Now, with Jun in the hospital and Tsurugi missing, he finds himself stretched too far and splintering for the first time.  But he won't give up.  Not now.  Not ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from Team the Best Team by Doomtree.

People who know him often say that Yumikage struggles with anger management issues.   _Out of line,_ his brother would say with narrowed eyes and tensed jaw.   _Explosive,_ Tsurugi would tease and drape himself over the sofa and mime explosions with his hands.   _Overprotective,_ Junichirou would chide in a voice so soft that a scolding turns into warm praise.

Truth be told, Yumi is not a self-examining kind of guy.  He doesn’t overthink or over-plan; he often doesn’t even realize that he _is_ angry until he sees red.  However, he’s old enough by now to realize a few common threads that are bound to wind him up.

Firstly:  he hates seeing kids or animals getting bullied.  Sure, it’s cliché—guy jumps in to defend the helpless, yada yada—but nothing enrages Yumi faster than seeing somebody picking on someone weaker than themselves.  He once spent half an hour teaching some ten-year-olds in a park self-defense after having to chase away some upperclassmen who were threatening them.  There are still eight cats and two battered old dogs that have never forgotten that if they show up to Yumi’s building around the times he goes to and from work, Yumi will feed them.

People insinuating that he hasn’t worked hard or otherwise doesn’t deserve his position are the second trigger.  Yumi’s family history undoubtedly has given him some extra clout in his field; he doesn’t deny that.  However, years spent wiping sweat from his eyes, blood from his mouth—the grainy, clinging film that coats his skin and clothes and hair after every hunt, smelling like ash and rot and petrichor—the fight is branded into his every muscle fiber and bred into his bone marrow.  Any person willing to put the same amount of discipline and sacrifice into C3 and the hunting of vampires can challenge Yumikage for his position whenever they feel ballsy enough.

Third on the list is less of a _thing_ or a _behavior_ the way the other items are.  Third on the list is a man:  Touma Taisha.

Yumi has never pretended to be a genius, but he’s developed a startlingly comprehensive memory for the shitty things Touma Taisha has done—a far longer itemized list than this one.  Yumi catalogues every mission that comes too close on the heels of another one, every training session that goes way too far, and every bit of bureaucratic twaddle that results in unnecessary risks or even casualties.

These grievances are the things Yumi rants about while drunk, the things he uses as ammunition whenever his brother (rarely) allows his input about how things are going at C3.  And, to be fair, these everyday slights of an uncaring employer provide him with fuel enough for his admittedly hair-trigger temper all on their own.

However, the list of Touma’s crimes has a second column.  And in that column Yumikage pens so much red into Touma Taisha’s ledger that he nearly drowns in it himself, in the memories, in the inescapable anger that pounds hard through his veins like a cancerous second heartbeat.

This list begins with a scene from half a life away: Touma holding Yumi’s unconscious friend like a sack and making smug insinuations about _repair fees_ for _it._  It’s further glutted with tiny, nearly daily incidents.  Tsurugi flinches when Jun throws his hands up in aggravation at their antics; he doesn’t even notice himself doing it, but Yumi sees every time.  He marks it down.  Yumi buys the three of them lunch from a cheap corner mart, and Tsurugi sidles up to him with offers to lick his feet—among other debasements—as fair repayment.  The combined price of their three basic lunches is less than Yumi makes in an hour.

He shoves Tsurugi off of him with a snarky comment, just like always.  And, just like always, he swallows a little harder to keep his voice steady, and he marks it down.

Each incident is like a pebble placed onto one side of a scale.  On the other side rests a boulder, or maybe a mountain—the nigh-insurmountable obstacle that is tradition, order, and control, all the things that Touma represents and all the weapons he could wield to crush any of his subordinates, even the youngest Tsukimitsu.  The pebbles pile up and slowly draw a balance, slowly begin to overwhelm Yumi’s self-control—but, just as easily, sometimes they roll away, or get forgotten, or simply get crushed to sand beneath greater weights.  For years, Yumi has balanced on knife’s edge, blood boiling in his veins, tense and high-strung, just waiting for the final little pebble to send the whole mountain crashing down.

As it happens, that decisive weight is less of a pebble as it is an avalanche.

People who know him often say that Yumikage struggles with anger management issues, and he’s always swallowed that diagnosis willingly.  He plays up the angle in middle and high school because people eat it up.  He channels his emotions into anger because it keeps people from asking questions.  He builds a wild, rebellious reputation that serves him well as a professional hunter.

However, it turns out that Yumikage does not actually know anger—his supposed constant companion—as well as he thought he did.  It turns out that anger isn’t red at all.  It’s white.  It’s nauseous, dizzy, paralyzing _white._

\--

The sheets of the bed.  The blinds drawn over the windows.  The knuckles of Yumi’s left hand.

It’s white.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for servamp manga spoilers (for the C3 arc)

\--

Yumi doesn’t generally spend much time thinking about or occupying the C3 clinic.  The whole place makes his skin crawl.  It’s a place to get stitched up and sent on your way, in Yumi’s book; if at all possible, he’s not afraid to throw his weight around to make a doctor treat him somewhere else in the facility instead of that soulless white room, no matter how much the doctors, his family, and Jun nag him about _sterile environments._ And after this?  Well, Yumi has new motivation to avoid injury at all cost.

He spends four days sitting numb on a chair, watching one of two people he trusts implicitly breathe through a tube, reduced to markings on charts and beeps on monitors.  When the doctors have to work to keep Jun alive, to check his stitches, or just to keep him comfortable, he retreats to a different hard metal chair, this time outside the clinic door.  Blank faces in C3 uniforms trickle past, and Yumi doesn’t register a single one.

The only time he leaves Jun’s side is when he’s called to Touma’s office to be officially briefed on what happened.  He barely hears a single word; his hearing fuzzes out after hearing _unstable fugitive_ and _Kurumamori’s regrettable mistakes._  He spends the briefing standing ramrod-straight, muscles locked in position, thoughts drizzling through his brain.  Unstable fugitive?  Seems odd for Touma to denounce his favorite hunter ( _favorite dog_ ) now, when he could be taking credit for helping stop Jun from “betraying” C3.  Regrettable mistakes?  A mild way for someone to describe Jun helping vampires break out of the facility.

 _I want to be back by his side_.  Yumi stares out the window, doesn’t shout Touma’s fake sympathy down, and closes off his mind.

Jun opens his eyes for the first time on the fifth day.  The first thing he does is make eye contact with a disheveled, exhausted Yumi, but he can’t say a word thanks to the ventilator.  He gets so worked up trying that a frowning nurse puts him back under to keep him from hurting himself.

Several days pass, and the stream of doctors and nurses gets more and more regular.  Whenever Dr. Yabushi is the one on duty, he pats Yumi on the back and encourages him about Jun’s progress, about the lack of magical trauma that could affect healing, about how he’ll be off the ventilator soon.  Yumi is actually glad to leave the room when they take him off of it; he just prays that when he comes back the lack of some of the tubes and wires attached to his friend will bring a bit of his own humanity back.

When Jun wakes up again, the sun has just begun slipping out of the sky, and the orange light makes the hospital room a little easier to stand. Yumi rubs his eyes and lets out a jaw-cracking yawn.  However, a shift of movement from Jun on the bed yanks him back to alertness, and he sits up straight.

The first thing Jun does is open his mouth and try to speak, but before he can even get a word out he’s taken by a dry coughing fit.

Trying to allay some of Jun’s possible fears before he can strain himself, Yumi scoots closer to his bedside and says quietly, “Hey, man, welcome back.  You’ve been out for a little less than two weeks.  Takuto is fine.  Worried about you, but I just said that you were an awesome secret agent and would be gone for a little while, since nobody wants him coming here to visit you.  His grandma’s been taking good care of him—“

Jun’s eyes are glassy under the flat fluorescent light.  He tries to speak again, managing a breathy croak, and frustration twists his usually mild features.

Yumi leans in even closer.  “You were pretty cut up, but the doctor says that you shouldn’t have any long-term side effects as long as you do physical therapy and stay off active duty for at least—“

Jun croaks again, loud enough to cut Yumi off.  He grabs Yumi’s shirt, pulling him down, almost shaking him.  Yumi clutches Jun’s wrist.  “What—“ he starts, but is immediately cut off again.

“ _Tsurugi,”_ Jun says.  His eyes glint.  His Adam’s apple bobs.

Yumi closes his eyes.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I know.”  He swallows as well, tasting acid.  “I can’t fucking believe—Jun, what the _fuck_ happened?  Was Touma involved?  I need to know right now so I know who to fucking tear—“

“ _Where.”_

Each word Jun manages comes out a tortured rasp, and Yumi opens his eyes again just to make sure he’s not overtaxing himself.  Yumikage squeezes his friend’s wrist tighter and dips his head.

“No one knows.  No one has heard from him since the power outage that happened soon after you went down.  Our best bet for finding him would probably be that Mahiru kid, but all the Servamps and Eves are gone, busted out around the same time.”

Jun drops his hand from Yumi’s shirt and slams his head back against his pillows a few times before trying to clutch his face and pulling at several of the wires hooking him up to the machines.

“Hey, Jun—stop that!  You’re all full of—staples and stitches and shit, don’t—“  He manages to pin Jun’s shoulders down to stop him from moving any more.  “I’m gonna call the nurse.  Should’ve done that first…fucking stupid…” he trails off, muttering to himself to hide how he’s choking up.

Yumi has just pressed the call button and settled back in his chair when Jun opens his mouth again.

“ _I—“_ He takes several shallow, rattling breaths.  “ _Find him.  Bring—here.  Yumi.”_

Yumi breathes deeply.  “I promise.”

\--

Where to begin?  Yumi isn’t stupid enough to go seeking out what he himself deemed the best lead; no Servamp will be particularly happy to see one of three guys responsible for a major chunk of their dead subclasses.  Even if he knew where they all were, he figures his chances of getting Mahiru alone are slim to none.  Without any other leads to pursue, he examines the premises of C3 from top to bottom under the guise of “checking the damages” and “keeping busy” whenever he’s asked what he’s doing.  He makes sure not to make extra rounds or spend more time in the area around Jun and Tsurugi’s fight.  Just in case.  And he also avoids the floor where the executives’ offices are located.  Just the thought of coming face-to-face with Touma right now makes him want to beat something to a pulp.

What are the odds that Tsurugi just decided that his loyalty to C3 was more important than his loyalty to Jun?  Yumi thinks of Tsurugi’s drunken, laughing face as he leans dramatically against a Jun who’s trying to escort them both home.  He thinks of the delicate way Tsurugi still holds Takuto, how he avoids doing it as much as he can, not because he doesn’t love the kid as much as any of them, but because he’s still afraid the taint he imagines in himself will rub off on anything innocent he touches.

No, Touma _must_ be involved somehow.  Only Touma has the kind of power over Tsurugi to make him do something so vile, so out of character.

In the end, he’s not the one who finds Tsurugi after all.  Rather, he’s taken to him.

After a week of searching for news of Tsurugi and trying to placate Jun, who is frustrated, in pain, and still bound to his hospital bed, Yumikage eventually has to return to his apartment for a real meal and a change of clothes.  It’s a cloudy, muggy evening, and Yumi trudges home with his temper stoked by his lack of success in locating Tsurugi and by the tickle of hairs sticking to his sweaty skin.

At the foot of the stairs to his apartment, all the various stray animals that beg food from him are assembled, and despite how preoccupied and tired Yumi is, he stops to greet the animals.

“You’re always happy to see me,” he says, scratching a scarred tabby beneath its chin.  The other cats wind around his ankles, and he shakes his head.  “Alright, freeloaders.”

Yet, strangely, the strays don’t follow him all the way up to his landing like they usually do.  They fall behind as he gets closer to his floor, slinking away into stairwells with backs arched and ears flattened.  A sense of unease prickles Yumi’s skin and tenses his shoulders, and by the time he turns the final corner to his apartment he’s nearly crouching.

“What the—“

A large dog—wolf?—is sitting on the welcome mat Jun bought him for his birthday three years ago—an ironic gift “for the least welcoming person I’ve ever met,” he’d said, laughing at Yumi’s sour expression.

The wolf stares directly at him, posture totally straight, ears pricked forward.  Waiting.  The moment it spots Yumi, the animal gets to its feet and trots down to the end of the breezeway.  Once there, it stops and turns back to stare again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Yumi mutters.  He unlocks his door and goes to step inside when he hears an insistent bark; he turns around, and the dog growls at him, taking a few more steps and then stopping and staring at him again.

Yumi throws one last longing look at his apartment before shoving his hands in his pockets and stomping over to the dog.  He’s had a rough couple weeks, and as goddamn ridiculous as this situation is, he’s not willing to add ‘mauled by dog’ to the list of his problems, especially not when he’s currently one of only two people capable of doing things like picking Takuto up from daycare.

“Fucking ridiculous,” he grouses.  “Fine, I’ll follow you.  But this better be good, weird dog.”

He follows the dog down the back stairs of the building and, increasingly grouchily, into the woods behind it.  The dog sets a steady pace that Yumi doesn’t have any trouble matching, though exhaustion weighs him down.  After ten minutes or so of walking Yumi starts hearing cars ahead of them, and soon they come out of the woods at the back of a cheap, nondescript hotel.

“C’mon, dog,” Yumi says, rubbing his forehead, “I’m tired.  I want a shower, I want dinner, and I want to get back to Jun.  So if you could just, I don’t know, get to the point, that would be fucking great.”

“You are Tsukimitsu Yumikage, correct?” A woman’s voice says coolly, and Yumi’s head jerks back up.  Exactly where the dog was sitting just a second ago, a woman stands with her arms folded.

“You’re—“ the pieces fall into place immediately in Yumi’s mind, and he clenches his jaw.  “Tch.  I hope you know I don’t actually have that much information about C3, so if you vamps are thinking that catching me alive will help you, you’re sorely mistaken—“

“You have the wrong idea, little one,” the woman says, turning her back on him.  “It is imperative that you follow me.  We’re almost there.”

“You’re Wrath, aren’t you,” Yumi says, not following her any further.  “You’re the one who broke out; you’re the reason that Tsurugi—“  He cuts off, sucking in a heavy breath and releasing it on a growl.

“I am The Mother,” she says.  “And if you will follow me up these stairs, you will see your friend Tsurugi.  I believe that he needs you.  He keeps asking for you, and the other one.  He is…not well.”

Yumi’s eyes flick up to the hotel.  Which window is it? He wonders.   _He keeps asking for you,_ she said, and Yumi can’t help but imagine it—imagine Tsurugi prone on a hotel carpet, seized with painful shakes, unable to eat, barely able to drink, crying for his friends—(and probably for Touma)—

He lashes out, slamming his knuckles against the rough bark of a nearby tree.  His shoulders heave and his teeth grit down on the scream of rage he desperately wants to release.  Wrath—The Mother—touches his shoulder gently.

“I know who you are, Tsukimitsu.  You’re more than powerful enough to fight off any trap I might be readying, aren’t you?  Please come upstairs with me.”

Yumi doesn’t ask why Wrath is even there, why she cares about Tsurugi; he doesn’t pull out a weapon; he doesn’t even raise his voice.  Frayed and frustrated and grieved, he just—he rubs at his knuckles, and shrugs away the Mother’s hand.

“Fine,” he says, and sets off for the hotel.


	3. Chapter 3

\--

Wrath doesn’t talk much.  She leads him up the stairs and down the hall, her strides quick and determined.  The hallways is plain and anonymous; part of Yumi is weak with relief that Wrath has chosen such a safe, bland place to hide away.

When they arrive at the right room, Wrath opens the door, but Yumi hangs back, arms folded, instead of following her inside.  From the doorway, he sees that the curtains are drawn and the lights are off; the bed closest to the door has been stripped of bedding for some reason.  Wrath’s soft voice reaches Yumi’s ears, but he can’t hear any sort of response.  He takes a deep breath and pushes off from the wall.

Once his eyes adjust, Yumi realizes that all the blankets from both beds have been stolen to create a nest of sorts, tucked into the corner and—admittedly—rather comfortable-looking.  And in the center of the nest is Tsurugi, curled into a ball and facing away from the door.

“He told me what happened to him,” Wrath says, “but after that, after I got him away, he wouldn’t speak anymore.  He doesn’t, except for when he falls asleep, and…”

“Yeah,” Yumikage interrupts, hunching over a bit.  He doesn’t need Wrath to remind him what watching Tsurugi dream can be like.

He sits down on a bare mattress, elbows resting on his knees.  He watches the lump of Tsurugi’s body, half-hidden by pillows.

“I wanted him to be comfortable,” Wrath says.  Yumi nods his response.

“Tsurugi,” Yumi says.  His voice sounds too loud, too brash, even to his own ears.  He flinches, guilt creeping in when he sees Tsurugi do the same.  Wrath comes a little closer.  “Hey,” he tries again.  He manages a quiet, what he thinks could pass for non-confrontational, tone.  Tsurugi doesn’t relax.

“You don’t have to talk, I guess,” Yumi continues.  “I don’t know what really happened.  I don’t know how you ended up here with a Servamp; I don’t know how you ended up fighting— It’s not important to me, the official story; it’s all bullshit.  I’ve been looking for you, Tsurugi.”  Yumi rakes his fingers through his hair, then pulls it back hastily at the reminder of how long it’s been since he actually showered.  “Jun’s awake.  All the doctors say he’ll be fine as long as he fucking takes it easy for a while and doesn’t overexert himself before he’s all the way better, which, considering him, we both know will be a miracle if he actually manages it.  Actually.”  Tsurugi has gone very still.  “Actually, Jun wanted me to find you.  He wants to talk to you.”

A high-pitched whine escapes from Tsurugi.  He curls up tighter and clamps his hands over his ears.

“No no no no no no no no no I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry no no no no—“ Tsurugi sobs.

Yumi’s stomach flops harshly.   _ Tsurugi… _

‘He isn’t well,’ Wrath had said.  In the darkness of this obscure hotel room, Yumikage stares down what he and Jun have always ignored.  Has Tsurugi  _ ever  _ been well, a single day that they’ve known him?  The realistic answer is no.  Manic energy, lack of self-worth, inattentive to everything when he isn’t hyperfixated on it—Yumikage wants, he wants to grab a fistful of Tsurugi’s t-shirt, he wants to yank him out of the nest Wrath made for him and give him an actual fucking hug, something he hasn’t done since they were kids.  But doing that would likely only send Tsurugi deeper into himself, so Yumikage clenches his fists down on air instead.

“I don’t know what happened,” Yumi says once again.  “Something must have.  I know you.  I know Jun.  I don’t believe you’d just attack each other like that.  I don’t know what’s going on, and I fucking  _ hate  _ being out of the loop.  But, Tsurugi…I’m not mad.  Not at you.”

“ _ Liar.” _

“I’m not!  I mean, maybe if you just woke up one day and were like ‘hurr durr I think I’ll attack Junichirou today!’ Maybe then I’d be pretty mad.  But I just don’t believe that’s what actually happened—and if you’re thinking what I think you are right now, then stop it.  You’re not going to convince me that you’re evil or a traitor unless Jun tells me you are.  Not when you’re in this state.  I’ve dealt with you like this before, yeah?  I’m not an idiot.”

Tsurugi doesn’t answer, just shifts in his nest.  Yumi can hear his hummingbird-like breaths.

“Tsurugi.  Look at me.  It’s just me.”

His friend rolls over at the order.  His bloodshot eyes meet Yumi’s for a second, then slip out of focus and towards the door.  Tears well up behind them, and a drip of snot starts winding down towards Tsurugi’s mouth.

“….I’m sorry.  Yumi.  Yumi.  I’m—“

“I know, asshole,” Yumi murmurs, sliding off the bed to sit next to the nest, back against the cold wall.

“Please.  Please, Yumi.  I’m sorry.”

“Shh, I know.”  He closes his eyes.  It gets harder to hear Tsurugi’s pleading every single time this happens--harder on Yumi’s heart to realize how low Tsurugi gets no matter what he does.  But, in the absence of anything else he can do, he’s bound by his love for Tsurugi to listen every single time, and only love him more.

“Hate me, Yumi.  Please.  No.  I’m sorry; hate me, you have to, Yumi, I did it, please— Yumi, I want it to stop—“  Harsh sobs render Tsurugi unable to talk further.

“Can I touch you, Tsurugi?” Yumi asks, hand halfway outstretched.  Tsurugi nods jerkily, and Yumi begins to rub his back firmly.  He murmurs quiet, comforting platitudes, just until Tsurugi is cried out. 

He tries to soothe Tsurugi the same way, he realizes, as Jun’s mother did that time the three of them all got chicken pox at the same time and were quarantined together.  After being nursed mostly back to health, Yumi and Tsurugi--both slathered in calamine lotion--had distracted themselves from the itching by daring each other to try and climb things without getting caught or leaving behind telltale grease marks.  In the end, Jun had won the game he hadn’t even officially been playing, and once they were all better Yumi and Tsurugi spent four hours re-polishing all of Mrs. Kurumamori’s furniture.

The memory of Mrs. Kurumamori’s patient bedside manner opens up a cold half-grief in Yumi’s chest.  Did she feel this way?  So painfully inadequate, trying to soothe away a suffering so deep it’s barely fathomable?  Yumi grieves for the friend he  _ should have  _ been to someone who needed him, grieves for this Tsurugi, who should have lead a different, easier life.

“What can I do, Tsurugi?” He says.  He’s unable to mask the thickness of his voice, the lump of pain in his throat.  “Anything.  I’ll help you.  I’ll do better from now on.”

“Don’t leave,” Tsurugi whispers, voice breaking on every syllable.  His breath has returned to almost normal, but Yumikage doesn’t stop rubbing his back, as if the moment he removes his hand Tsurugi will disappear in a puff of smoke. 

The room only gets darker as the sun finishes going down.  Tsurugi doesn’t speak again, and eventually Yumi falls asleep on the floor next to the blanket nest, slumped over halfway onto it with his hand clutching the back of Tsurugi’s shirt.

\--

Hours later, both Yumi and Tsurugi drift awake within minutes of each other.   Yawning hugely, Yumi rolls his head to stretch out a kink in his neck, and shakes his hair out like a dog.

“Damn, I need a shower,” he says, holding a limp hank of hair out in front of him.  He pushes himself off the floor.  Once in the bathroom, he doesn’t even bother looking in the mirror.  

Unwashed from sitting in the hospital and sweaty from trekking through the woods with Wrath—he doesn’t need to look to know how gross he looks.  He turns the water up as hot as he can stand, and leans his forehead against the slick tile.

Would punching something help?  Punching something usually helps.  But the walls in this hotel are thin, and punching the wall would startle Tsurugi and maybe even cause some kind of damages he’d have to pay.  Yumi punches his own thigh instead, huffing out a breath.

_ Think about this.  Jun and Tsurugi need you.  Hold it the fuck together and fucking think for once. _

Jun is recuperating in the C3 clinic, under the care of Dr. Yabushi.  How can they get Tsurugi in to talk to him?  The old man cares for Tsurugi and would never willingly endanger him, but…Touma can come and go from the clinic freely. Yabushi has no power to fight the assistant director, and Yumikage is not willing to rely purely on his affection for Tsurugi.  And, more to the point, putting Tsurugi back in that place would put Touma’s claws firmly back in Tsurugi’s skin, no matter how anyone tries to protect him.

Shutting off the water and toweling off briskly, Yumi grabs his phone off the sink and dials the number for Jun’s mother.  It rings three times.  Yumi jumps lightly up and down, trying to get his legs into his pants one-handed.  On the final ring, someone picks up, and Yumi immediately says, “I’m going to need your help.”

“Papa Yumi!” A child’s voice responds, and, after a brief pause, Yumi grins despite himself.

“Hey, kiddo.  What are you doing answering Grandma’s phone?”

“Grandma’s cooking breakfast. Her phone ringed on the table.  What dyou need, Papa Yumi?”

“Takuto, can you hand the phone to Grandma?  I really need to speak with her.  I’ll tell you all about it next time I see you, okay?”

“Okay.  Tell Papa I loove him, and I miiss him, and tell Papa Tsurugi too!”

“Of course I will.  Thanks.”   _ God, we’re so lucky,  _ he thinks.  Feeling twenty pounds lighter, Yumi looks into the mirror as he runs his fingers through his tangled hair and fishes around in his pockets for a hairband.  Quiet fumbling noises come through the phone, and then Mrs. Kurumamori answers.

“Why are you calling this early, Yumikage?  You know I have to get Takuto to daycare.  Has something happened to—Has something changed?”  Her voice is harried, but Yumi can’t spare the guilt at the moment.

“I need you to do something, ma’am.  You’re the only one who can, I think.  I need you to appeal to C3 to get Jun transferred to a non-C3 hospital.  You’re his next of kin, so they have to listen to you.  I’m not sure it’s safe for him to be where he is, and I don’t want Takuto anywhere near there, and…you know Jun keeps asking for Tsurugi, and I  _ know  _ it isn’t safe for Tsurugi to go back to C3 right now.”

A pause.  “If you truly think that’s the case, Yumi, then I’ll do my best.  I…honestly, I’d rather not go to that place any more than I have to either.  I will put in the request today.”

“Thank you.”  Relieved, Yumi goes to hang up the phone, but before he can, Mrs. Kurumamori speaks again.

“Come visit us soon, Yumikage,” she says softly.  “I worry about all my boys, you know.”

For a moment, Yumi can’t speak.  “I.  I will.  Thank you, Mother.”

Hanging up, Yumi presses the phone against his forehead.  And then he takes a deep breath and leaves the bathroom.

The wolf—Wrath—is lying next to the bed, her head resting in Tsurugi’s lap.  He’s bent over her, chest resting on her flank and face nuzzled into her side.  His hands run idly through her fur.  At the sound of the door, Tsurugi tilts his head to look at Yumi.

“Took so long in the shower, Yumi-chan,” he says with a weak flicker of his usual shit-eating grin. “Doing naughty things?  Someone will have to pay for that water bill, ahahaha.”

Yumi snorts and lobs a stray pillow at Tsurugi.  “I was on the phone, asshole.”  He opens his mouth to tell Tsurugi of the plan, but thinks twice about it before saying anything.  Rather, he says, “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m perfectly fine!  Whatever are you talking about?”  Tsurugi fidgets, fists tightening in Wrath’s hair.

“Right.  Well, I was on the phone with Mrs. Kurumamori and Takuto—who says he loves you, by the way.”

As Yumi expected—or perhaps dreaded—the color drains out of Tsurugi’s face, leaving him gray and wan. 

Yumi continues, “Mrs. Kurumamori will try to get Jun transferred to a hospital so that you and I can go visit him.  Like I said, he’s asking for you.”

Very slowly, Tsurugi lowers himself back down to lay on Wrath, in the same position he was in when Yumi came into the room.  Slowly, Yumi crouches down next to him, and Tsurugi puts his hands over his face.

“Tsurugi.  Jun will not attack you from a hospital bed.  He just wants to talk to you.  And I  _ need  _ to know what really happened.  I’ll be right there with you.”

“I can’t.”  Tsurugi’s voice rings fragile, and in it Yumi can hear the desperation and panic that characterizes everything that runs beneath Tsurugi’s skin when his armor cracks.  Yumi rocks back on his heels.   _ Am I too close?  Was me leaning in what set him off?  No, I thought it was insisting that he still had to see Jun.  Should I stand up?  No, dumbass, that’s worse, you’ll look all threatening.   _ Paralyzed with indecision, Yumi nearly misses what Tsurugi says next.  

“I can’t, I can’t see him.  It’ll happen again.  I’ll hurt him, I’ll kill him, I’ll hurt someone—please, Yumi-chan, please, I don’t want, please, please, just kill me, I can’t—“

Yumi grimaces, sick of heart and of stomach.  But past his own visceral reaction, Yumi hears that something is definitely off about Tsurugi’s assertion that he won’t be able to stop from attacking if he ever sees Jun again.  Being afraid of hurting an infant is one thing, like how Tsurugi behaved around Takuto for the longest time.  This is something different.  

“Look at me.  Listen to me,” he says in the firm, steady voice he uses whenever Tsurugi is triggered by an alarm.  “Tsurugi, I need to know.  Why are you so sure that you’ll kill Jun?”

Wrath’s ears perk up at the question.  Yumi suspects that she probably knows; she said that Tsurugi told her what happened.  But one problem at a time.  They’ll tackle the “what the fuck, Tsurugi has a Servamp, he’s probably an Eve now” problem later.

“Tai-ch…no, Tou…ah…”

Yumi bites a piece of skin off his tongue.  “What is it, Tsurugi,” he demands, trying not to growl, trying not to threaten or frighten his friend.

“There was…a spell.”  Tsurugi’s voice grows fainter and fainter.  “A spell that made me—no, it didn’t make me, we were already fighting, because Jun-ch…because he wanted to help the vampires escape, and I was ordered… But Jun-chan was speaking, and I don’t remember what he said, but I must have been being bad, because then Touma-san said a spell to make me hurt him…” Tsurugi’s eyes slip off to the side.  “I don’t remember.  I don’t want to remember anymore.  And then I was drowning.”

Wrath’s eyes hold steady on Yumi, and she tenses.  Ready to jump in between them if Yumi attacks Tsurugi?  Ready to run off herself and rip Touma limb from limb?  Yumi hopes so.

“I  _ fucking  _ knew it,” Yumi hisses, flexing the hand that still has some splinters embedded in the knuckles from his outburst in the woods yesterday.  “That piece of shit!”  He jumps up and whirls around, looking for something to hit that won’t cause a ton of damage.  Too angry to think straight, he settles for slamming his fist into the bare mattress.  He then paces the length of the room and back—the room is too small for him to get any real distance, to blow off any real steam—the white creeps in the edges of his vision, the edges of his mind, makes his teeth ache.  Yumi feels numb and on fire at the same time.  When he sees Touma again—if that bastard ever dares to come anywhere near him—Yumi’s gonna stick his thumbs in Touma’s eye sockets and  _ push— _

Wrath chuffs quietly, and Yumi whirls around again.  She noses gently at Tsurugi’s still-colorless cheek and paws lightly at his shoulder; he remains unresponsive.  The accusatory look she shoots at Yumi, he suspects, would be just as frightening even if she were currently a woman and not a large wolf-dog.

Deep breaths.  “Tsurugi, can you hear me?  Just blink if you can.  You don’t have to move; you don’t have to talk.  I’m sorry for scaring you.  Wrath, can you tell me if he blinks?”

She nods, and then nods a second time.

“Whenever you’re ready, whenever you think you can stand, I’m going to bring you and Wrath back to my apartment.  I’d just feel better having you there than here.  She won’t let you hurt me, and she won’t let anything hurt you, so it will be fine.  Just nod if this is okay, or shake your head if it isn’t.”

A long minute passes before Wrath communicates Tsurugi’s nod to Yumi.

A little of the tension leaves Yumi’s shoulders.  “Okay.  Good.  Well…until you feel better, I can either wait here in the room, or I can wait outside.  Which would you prefer?  Nod for here, shake for outside.”

After an even longer time, Wrath shakes her head.

“Alright.  Thank you for talking to me, Tsurugi.  I’ll be outside whenever you’re ready.”

Yumi makes sure not to slam the door when he leaves.  After so much time spent in a medical clinic and now the time spent in that cramped, emotion-choked hotel room, even the air in the hallway is fresh enough to make Yumi feel a little light-headed, and he sucks in as much air as he can.  He doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until he begins to feel dizzy.  Slumping down against the gray-white wall, he puts his head between his knees and tries to calm himself down, punching the floor rhythmically, lightly enough not to further bruise his already-hurt knuckles.

_ Fucking  _ Touma.  Why did it come to this?  Why did it take so long for Yumi—and Jun, because this realization must have prompted Jun’s extreme behavior before he was hurt—to actually move to keep Tsurugi away from that abusive fuckwad?  Why hadn’t anyone listened when Yumi ranted about how terrible Touma was?  Why hadn’t Yumi and Jun faced Tsurugi together; why hadn’t Yumi and Tsurugi told Jun about the extent of Tsurugi’s illness?

Finally holding and exhaling a full breath, Yumi punches the ground one final, harder time.

_ We have to do better,  _ he thinks, and puts his head in his hands.


	4. Chapter 4

“So,” Yumi says, tossing his keys aside and stepping out of the way to let Wrath and Tsurugi in, “now we’re waiting on a call from Jun’s mother saying that he’ll be transferring.  In the meantime, I should actually probably get back to C3.  I’ve been trying to keep busy there what with everything going on…trying to mask the fact I was looking for you, actually.  But now it’ll look suspicious if I’m gone for too long, so I should go.  You’ll be alright here?”

Tsurugi narrows his eyes slightly.  “Oh no, whatever will I do in such an unfamiliar place?” He laments, navigating several piles of clothes and papers and staggering to the couch.  “I’ll waste away poor and alone…”  Throwing his head back and letting his tongue flop out, he plays dead for a few seconds before saying, “I’ve been in your apartment before, Yumi-chan.  No need to act like I’m a new girlfriend or something.

Yumi flicks his middle finger at Tsurugi and then turns to Wrath.  In her human form, her steady gaze is far more unsettling—Yumi gets the impression that she knows and understands him implicitly, despite having only known him for twelve hours. 

“No need to say anything,” she says, smiling a soft smile that warms her eyes, “we will keep ourselves occupied here while you do what you need to do.”

“All right, sounds good, Wr—uh…” In his mind, Yumi has just been calling her  _ Wrath,  _ but in her presence he’s suddenly unsure whether that’s rude or not, to refer to a Servamp by their sin.  He jams his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they’re suddenly sweating.

“You may call me The Mother, dear,” she says.  Clearly, she’s too polite to laugh at him.

“R-right, uh, Mother.  I, um…” he trails off, unconsciously wipes his hands on his thighs and sticks them back in his pockets, then continues, “Thank you.  So much.  For saving Tsurugi…for looking out for him.”

“It’s what I do, Tsukimitsu Yumikage,” The Mother replies.  “I never accept an Eve I do not love.  Your Tsurugi needs a guiding hand, and I need someone to care for.  There is no need to thank me.”

Yumi flushes—it’s like he’s ten years old and waiting for his own mother to yell at him for breaking something, even though The Mother is still smiling at him.  He doesn’t comment on the confirmation that Tsurugi has made a contract with the Servamp of Wrath.

“Well…anyway, I don’t have good history with vampires, but now…It, um, probably doesn’t sound like much to you, but as long as you’re on Tsurugi’s side, you’ve got this Tsukimitsu on your side as well.  You and yours have nothing to fear from me, as long as you’re protecting me and mine.”  Yumi sticks out his still-clammy hand for Wrath to shake.

She actually does laugh this time, a laugh that shakes her shoulders and makes her cover her mouth with a hand.  “Oh, dear,” she says through her laughter, “that was quite the speech!  But thank you.  You are very different from what I expected.”  She takes Yumi’s hand in both of hers and clasps it for a moment.  “Now go.  Everything will be fine here.”

“Everything will be fine!  I’m already eating all your snacks in revenge for you talking about me like I’m not here!” Tsurugi calls from deeper in the apartment.

\--

Yumi clatters down the stairs of his apartment building, fingering his phone compulsively.  How long will it take Mrs. Kurumamori to convince C3 to let Jun go?  What is the best way to split his time between Jun at the clinic and Tsurugi at home without arousing suspicion?  The closer he gets to the C3 building, the more Yumi feels that there are eyes trained on him from every window he passes.

He has to remind himself not to hold his breath when re-entering the heavy, antiseptic atmosphere of the underground clinic.  The clinic has no waiting room; it’s only for C3 employees, after all, and most of those employees do not have a large number of people who are knowledgeable enough about the work done at C3 to have clearance to even see their loved ones in the clinic.  Yumi, on the other hand, walks right in.

Reclining on pillows and reading a thick dossier, Jun looks much calmer than he has since waking up the first time.  Yumi hesitates with his hand on the door handle.  However, upon seeing Yumi through the window, Jun startles, removes his glasses, rubs his forehead, and tries to quickly shove his documents under his bedsheets.

Now grinning, Yumi opens the door and strolls in.  “Really, Kurumamori?  Working, in your condition?  What would your mother say?”

“Do  _ not  _ tell her,” Jun demands, jabbing a finger in Yumi’s direction. 

Yumi laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender.  “I won’t, I won’t.  I haven’t spoken to her recently, after all; she seems to have lost her phone privileges to a certain little someone.”  The half-lie comes easily, though it’s unnecessary if C3 is monitoring his phone calls; still, even that tiny precaution makes Yumi breathe a little easier, as if he can convince himself he’s not putting the rest of Jun’s family in grave danger by getting them involved.

Jun relaxes instantly, fondness spreading across his tired face.  “How is Takuto?  I understand why he can’t come visit me here, but…”  His eyes shine, waiting for news of his son.

“Takuto is fine.  He says that he loves you and misses you, is all, but he sounded happy on the phone.”  Yumi pulls out the chair next to the bed and flops down onto it.  Jun’s face has more color in it than it’s had since before the last time Yumi saw him healthy, as if talk of his son rejuvenates him from the inside out.   _ I can sympathize with that,  _ Yumi thinks.

“That’s good.  I don’t want him to worry more than he has to, you know?”

“Me and your mom will set up a schedule, y’know, so I can take the kid sometimes, and she can come here and see you.”

Jun sighs heavily and places his hands in his lap.  “Thanks, Yumi.  Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience?  Oh, yeah, damn, you’re right.  You had better fuckin thank me for not letting your mom and baby son just fend for their own damn selves while you’re recuperating in a company hospital bed.  I’m a fucking saint, and don’t you forget it.”  Yumi snorts and flicks Jun on the forehead rather than punching him like he normally would if one of his friends was acting that stupid.

Jun scowls, but the expression slides off his face quickly.  He has heavy bags under his eyes and lines around his mouth; every blink seems slower, heavier.

Searching for a way to deliver some good news without alerting whoever might be listening to the plan he’s set in motion, Yumi says:

“So, you know all the strays that hang out around my apartment, right?”

“Are you going to complain about this again?  I keep telling you that they wouldn’t hang around so much if you’d stop feeding them.”

“Nah, I was just gonna say that I’m thinking about keeping one of them.”

Jun raises an eyebrow.  “Really?  I thought you said, and I quote ‘they’ve gotta be full of diseases and shit; if I die, it’ll be from something awesome, not from dog ass flu or some shit.’”

“And I stand by that statement.  But no, really.  I found one lurking around in the woods behind my apartment building, and he’s honestly in a pretty bad way, but I couldn’t help but bring him in and give him a place to stay for a bit.  And now he’s grown on me—I feel like a grandma or some shit, but damn, I guess I’ve got a new housemate.”  Yumi leans back in his chair.

Shaking his head, Jun chuckles.  “Well, I look forward to meeting this new pet.  It must be something special to make you admit all that.”

“Well, maybe you’ll get to meet it sooner than you think.   I think you’ll like it.”  Yumi sticks his feet up on the bed, leaving some dirt behind on the pristine white sheets.  His foot jiggles, making Jun kick him lightly.

“Cut it out!  Just because I’m anxious to get out of this bed does not mean that I’m so desperate for exercise that I’ll accept you shaking my bed as a workout.”

“Really, you sure?  ‘Cause if you’re looking for something more intense, then I can do it harder.”  He braces his foot on the edge of the bed, but Jun throws a pillow at his face, and he pretends to fall out of his chair.

“If you’re bored enough to mess with me, then you should go find something else to do.”  Jun unfolds his glasses and slides them back on his face, and he grabs the files he was reading when Yumi first came into the room.

“Alright, alright.  God, where has your sense of humor gone since being in the hospital?”  Once at the door, Yumi salutes Jun and adds, “I’ll be back around dinnertime, yeah?  Try not to set your brain on fire with work while I’m gone, okay?”

“Just keep yourself out of trouble!”  Jun shouts at him, but he’s already out the door and heading down the hallway with a smirk on his face.

But the smirk evaporates by the time he reaches the stairwell.  Did Jun get the message?  Oh, well; better to risk Jun not knowing that Tsurugi had been found than to risk alerting someone at C3 to his possible whereabouts. 

Yumi passes a guard on the way down the stairs—a man he’s seen several times in the past few weeks.  Yumi keeps his head up and his eyes straight forward as they pass each other, but shoots him a suspicious glance once he’s past.  Either C3 is rotating a loose guard around Jun’s room, or someone has been assigned to follow Yumi around the building.  Either is distinctly possible, considering the circumstances of Jun’s injury; Yumi is somewhat surprised that Jun hasn’t already had some sort of “medical accident,” since Touma’s attempt to use Tsurugi to kill him for siding with vampires failed.

Just more reasons to get Jun transferred.  All Yumi can do is hope that everything will go smoothly from here on out.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**** Yumi doesn’t hear from Mrs. Kurumamori for another several days, and when his phone finally does ring he’s peering at the washing instructions on a rarely-worn dress shirt of his.  Several baskets of already-washed laundry await him in the middle of the sitting room; Yumi glances around the room to make sure Wrath isn’t anywhere watching to make sure he doesn’t neglect his chores before picking up the phone.

“Hi, Mrs. Kurumamori,” he greets.  He shrugs and tosses the shirt in the washing machine with the other whites, then kicks the door shut and lets it start automatically.

“Hello, Yumikage.  I was just calling to let you know that my request—“ She pauses for a moment, then says, “Yumi, honey, are you doing  _ laundry?” _

Yumi can hear the repressed laughter in her voice, and hastily moves to the other side of the room, away from the rattle of the washing machine, which is apparently audible through the phone.

“And it’s not even the end of the month,” Jun’s mother continues.  Yumi blushes and flops down on the couch, where the baskets of clean laundry lurk mockingly in his peripheral vision.  He wiggles his bare toes against the rough upholstery.

“Aww, c’mon, Mom,” Yumi whines.  “I do laundry when I’ve got to.  Just thought I’d get some stuff done while—“

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry.”  The continued laughter in her voice telegraphs that she is not nearly as sorry as she claims to be.  “Anyway.  I just wanted to tell you that my request went through, and since the C3 doctor has determined that there’s no significant,” she cups her hand over the speaker and whispers, “ _ magical  _ damage, Jun will be transferred to a local hospital tomorrow.  I will text you the address so you can come see him, alright?”

“Right.  Thank you so much, Mrs. Kurumamori; that’s a huge relief.  Will you tell Takuto that me ‘n’ Tsurugi love him?” Yumi clears his throat awkwardly, then says in a rush, “I’m really sorry I haven’t been more help with him since Jun’s been in the hospital.  You’ve got more right to see your son than I do, after all.”

“Nonsense.  Jun would do anything for you and Tsurugi; you know that.  And if  _ either  _ of you is doubting that at the moment, then I suggest you re-evaluate your opinion of my son before seeing any of us tomorrow.”  The fierceness in her voice is grounding, and gratitude floods Yumi’s body, despite the thought that comes right on its heels:  _ If that wasn’t the case, then he wouldn’t be in the hospital right now. _

“Anyway…”  Yumi clears his throat again.  “We’ll be over to see Jun just as soon as we hear that he’s settled in over at the new hospital.  Thanks again.”

“No need.”  Mrs. Kurumamori pauses as if wondering whether or not she should say more, and eventually she says, “Is Tsurugi there?  May I speak to him?”

Yumi picks at a loose string in the couch.  “Oh, he’s here somewhere.  If the laundry didn’t tip you off, having a long-term houseguest—even if it is just Tsurugi—put me in the mood for a bit of spring cleaning.”  No need to add that The Mother lives up to her name and was the main catalyst for turning Yumi’s apartment into something more habitable than a frat house.  “So he’s either about to burn the place down with an iron, already asphyxiated on cleaning fumes, or he’s hidden somewhere to avoid having to help.  My money’s on the last one, personally.”

“That’s not funny, Yumikage,” Mrs. Kurumamori snaps, and Yumi wriggles at the disapproval.  “Well, tell him I’m thinking of him, and so is Takuto.”

“I will.  Bye, Mrs. Kurumamori.”

Yumi lies back on the couch.  The lock screen on Yumi’s phone is a blurry picture Takuto once took of his papas while the three of them bickered over something, and for some reason Yumi just can’t look away.  He rubs his thumb over their faces; Jun has his chin propped on his fist while he watches Yumi and Tsurugi, Yumi himself has his arm wrapped around Tsurugi’s neck, delivering a merciless noogie, while Tsurugi cackles wildly. 

He drops his phone onto his stomach and rubs his hands over his face. 

How will Tsurugi react if he does pass along the message?  He’ll either just be uncomfortable, or he’ll have another breakdown.  Yumi’s not sure he wants to chance it—but neither is he sure he wants to hold back any expressions of support for Tsurugi, not when he needs all the affirmation he can get that his loved ones aren’t currently wishing he was dead.

A crash sounds from the bedroom, startling Yumi out of his reverie.  He jumps to his feet.

_ Tsurugi, catatonic on the floor.  An opened window, maybe: C3 goons tranquilizing him and hauling him away.  Wrath’s fangs in his throat.  Dead; Tsurugi, dead... _

Yumi staggers to the bedroom, tripping twice over shit in the middle of the room.  He finally turns the corner, bracing himself on the doorframe and when his eyes scan the room he sees the source of the noise: Tsurugi struggling with a fitted sheet.  In an attempt to fold the sheet, it ended up wrapped around his ankles, sending him tumbling to the ground, where he wrestles with his fabric enemy.  Rather than helping, Wrath laughs brightly and dumps another basketful of sheets over his head.

Yumi’s head spins, the rush nearly sending him to the floor as well.  Hearing Tsurugi’s laughter, Yumi can’t help but laugh along.  He’s wiggling around in a pile of freshly cleaned sheets; Wrath turns into a wolf and bites at a blanket, encouraging him to play tug-of-war.  Yumi doubles over, unable to stop his laughter.  His knees tremble; he leans against the doorframe just to keep himself from falling on his ass.  He smacks his forehead with the heel of his hand and clutches his stomach.  By now, Wrath and Tsurugi have stopped their game and turned to look at Yumi.

“What’re you looking at?” Yumi gasps out between laughs, wiping his eyes.

“Yumi-chan…?” Tsurugi whispers, and all of the sudden Yumi realizes that he really  _ can’t stop laughing. _

“Shit…” he says weakly, and his knees finally do give out.  He’s still laughing, but he tastes salt, and the lump in his throat that he’s been carrying since he first heard Jun was in the hospital thickens again and thickens more.

Tsurugi in his apartment, fucking up housework and wrestling with Wrath and  _ laughing _ \--Jun might as well be in the other room cooking or asleep with his nose in a book or, or, and things would be normal and good as much as they ever are--but he’s  _ not,  _ and they’re  _ not,  _ and everything feels wrong all at the same time it feels right to finally see Tsurugi happy again.

A sob jumps from his throat; it thrashes in his chest like a fish in a net; it only fights harder the more he tries to tamp it down.  And when one escapes, the rest follow.  With his forehead pressed to the ground and one arm still clutching his stomach, Yumi sobs into his bedroom floor.

“Yumi?” Tsurugi says again, sitting up on his knees and scooting a little closer.  All the laughter has fled from his voice, leaving behind something that sounds brittle and scared.

Stupid.  Fucking stupid.  Of all the times to lose it—

Hands grab him by the ears and tug his face up.  Through wavering, cloudy eyes, Yumi comes face-to-face with Tsurugi.  “Yumi-chan, what’s wrong?” he asks.

Yumi can’t meet his eyes.  “God,  _ fuck, _ ” he chokes, grinding the palms of his hands into his eyes.  “I’m fucking—god, I’m sorry, fuck, I’m—“

“Shh, just take your time.  Breathe,” Wrath adds, placing her hand on his shoulder and rubbing gently.

The coddling touch and the sound of their voices sink directly through Yumi’s skin, through his organs, into his bones. 

The world inside out; all things turned around; all roles reversed.  As children, it was never Yumi who needed his wounds kissed or needed someone to check for monsters under the bed.  Convinced of his own immortality, every childish hurt and fear had bounced off him like rubber.  Now that they’re all adults they have a system; they all have their roles.  Yumi and Tsurugi joke around; Jun keeps them from getting too deeply into trouble.  Yumi and Jun wrestle Tsurugi into line and keep him grounded; Tsurugi’s skill and perseverance keep them all striving and improving.  Jun and Tsurugi offer often wildly different opinions, and Yumi serves as the bridge that keeps them together.

“It’s alright, Yumi-chan,” Tsurugi says.  Yumi grips his arm so tightly it must hurt, but Tsurugi doesn’t even try to pull away.

Even after his tears dry up and his shoulders stop heaving, Yumi doesn’t make any move to get up off the floor.  The three of them—Yumi, Tsurugi, and Wrath—sit there in exhausted silence, all of them with minds whirring, one of them only trying to give comfort, and two of them only hoping that things will be better when they’re all together again.

\--

No one sleeps very well that night.  The Mother dozes on Yumi’s couch.  Torn between wanting to comfort both her Eve and his friend and wanting to let them figure things out on their own, she settles for keeping an eye on the door in case someone comes after them.  It is, she figures, the least she can do to be a protector when their enemies are strongest in their own heart.

Mrs. Kurumamori falls asleep stroking Takuto’s hair, wondering how on earth to explain his father’s condition in terms a three-year-old can understand.  At a loss for what she’s going to say when she sees Tsurugi again and wishing, not for the first time, for the ignorant simplicity of years ago, when the worst heartbreak she thought the world held was the death of a loved one.

Tsurugi, tense and hyper-alert, lies awake, as if lying awake would make the hours longer, as if he could stave off the inevitable that the next day he will have to come face-to-face with Jun.  Yumi, eyes still raw and body sore from sobbing, succumbs to fitful dreams, thrashing under images of white hallways and wrong turns and the turned backs of his loved ones.

And, a few miles away, Jun only pretends to sleep, measuring his breaths carefully, laying amidst a whole new set of papery sheets and cryptic monitors.  He strains his ears to listen past the beeping and the distant sounds of patients and orderlies and imagines he can hear the breathing of the nurse—C3 guard—in position outside the door of his room.

It’s a quiet night, outside.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tsuru/yumi bias peeks its head out from around the corner: hi, hello
> 
> *this chapter has a very brief choking scene in it, so watch out for that

The trip to the hospital the next day is conducted in grim silence.  Tsurugi keeps his head bent and a hand on Wrath’s back, and Yumi doesn’t question the return of his uncharacteristic silence.  Before entering the building, they stop to consider how to handle the Mother’s appearance.  She obviously can’t enter as a wolf, and her presence would probably be an unwelcome shock to Jun, not to mention the danger it could cause if C3 guards are lurking about, but at the same time she can’t go too far without causing discomfort and harm to herself and Tsurugi.

The Mother makes the decision herself to simply wait outside for them to be finished, saying that she’s willing to be patient if it means things getting better.  Tsurugi whines endlessly about how he wanted to introduce Jun to  _ nee-chan,  _ but his fidgeting betrays the real anxiety running through him.  By the time they’re walking through the automatic doors into the hospital lobby, he’s all but shaking.

A succession of calm, polite receptionists point the way for Tsurugi and Yumi, up several floors and to a waiting room in an adjacent wing of the building.  The hospital’s tiled floors are speckled with blue, which matches the blue trim on the walls and doors, and all the orderlies wear different colored scrubs based on their department.  The splashes of color allow Yumi to relax slightly, to breathe evenly and remind himself that, no matter what kind of interference C3 might attempt here, at the very least he can feel like Jun is truly back among the living.

Tsurugi, who has spent far more time in C3’s clinic than anyone else, is less comfortable in the hospital.  He swings his arms with every step; every time they run across a doctor his gaze follows them until they’re out of sight.  He lopes along with a restless, rangy gait, getting far ahead of Yumi, then doubling back to lurk behind him, then repeating the whole thing again.  By the time they actually reach the waiting room on Jun’s floor, Yumi is ready to demand that Mrs. Kurumamori dig out the baby leash that no one’s ever had to use on Takuto just so he can keep Tsurugi from prowling off somewhere.

“A nurse will let you know when you can go in, so for the meantime, please take a seat,” the final receptionist says, gesturing to the blue metal chairs.  Yumi nods his thanks and sits down, but Tsurugi starts pacing back and forth.

This might be the longest Tsurugi has ever gone without wearing the C3 uniform, Yumi realizes.  He frowns as he watches Tsurugi pace.  Tsurugi’s fashion sense is, as he always puts it,  _ simple and elegant.   _ Usually that means something that Yumi refers to as ‘dumpster chic,’ which entails clothing that Tsurugi definitely actually found in the garbage (or just dirt-cheap in rummage sales and clearance racks) and yet somehow manages to make look perfect.  Right now,  _ simple and elegant  _ apparently means a pair of worn black jeans and a too-large flannel shirt that was heisted from one of the piles of laundry Yumi did yesterday.

No matter how restless Tsurugi is, no matter how irritating his nonstop movement is, Yumi only relaxes further when he thinks about how he may never see Tsurugi running around with his arms belted to his sides ever again.

When the nurse arrives to bring them back to see Jun, Yumi slides out of his seat to follow her.  But before he goes anywhere, he turns to Tsurugi and says, “Let me go in first, okay?  I’m not totally sure Jun got the message that I was bringing you, so let me tell him and then I’ll call you in.”

Tsurugi clenches his jaw and nods.  Yumi can’t be sure it isn’t the effect of the fluorescent lights—even though this hospital is infinitely less bleak and soul-crushing than the clinic, the lighting still makes everyone look corpse-like—but Tsurugi is once again looking markedly gray. 

“It’ll be okay,” Yumi says firmly.  “I’ll call you in in like five minutes.”

“Sure thing,” Tsurugi replies, flashing a peace sign but lacking his usual energy and (shit-eating) grin.

A man in scrubs and a surgical mask is standing across the hall from Jun’s room, studying a clipboard of charts.  Yumikage clenches his fists as he turns his back to the man and grabs the doorknob— _ C3, probably,  _ he thinks, but, lacking any way (apart from assaulting the man and seeing how he reacts) to prove his suspicions, he can do little more than keep his guard up.

“Hey, Jun—“ Yumi says, trying for an upbeat tone, as he opens the door, but he falls dead silent the moment he enters the room.

“Good morning, Yumi.  How are you feeling?” Jun asks evenly, not turning to look at Yumi.

Rather, he keeps his eyes trained right at the other man in the room: Touma.  Touma, who sits in a similar chair to the one that Yumi occupied for endless, strung-out hours in the clinic, the chair of grieving family and friends in every hospital in every part of the world.

And Touma has the nerve to sit by Jun’s bedside now, here, in the daylight; he has the  _ goddamn gall— _

Yumi flies across the room before he can even think twice, a ringing deafening his ears and a shout tearing at his throat.  His hands wrap around Touma’s throat; Jun is saying something in his sternest voice, the voice he always uses when he thinks Yumi and Tsurugi need some sort of mothering, but it doesn’t reach him, not this time, not when he could end Touma right here and now, before he can do anything else.

Before he can learn that Tsurugi is outside the door, only ten feet away. 

Yumi presses his thumbs into Touma’s windpipe.

“ _ Yumikage!”  _ Jun barks, but Yumi doesn’t even look away from Touma’s dark eyes and darkening face until something hits him on the shoulder.

His grip slackens in shock, and he looks over at Jun, blinking in confusion.  “Did you just…” he glances down at the floor, where a piece of plastic sits innocently.  “Did you just throw your  _ pudding cup  _ at me?”

“Take your hands off him before someone calls security,” Jun snaps.

“Jun, this fucker is the reason you’re in that hospital bed.  He tried to kill you, and what he’s done to Ts—“

“And you think going to prison is going to fix that?  Use your brain, and fucking let go of him.  Now.”

Yumi reluctantly lets go of Touma, but he doesn’t take a single step back.  Touma clears his throat, then smiles slightly. 

“Thank you, Mr. Kurumamori.  Now, as I was saying, we will have to negotiate your return to employment with us.  After all, your betrayal was quite blatant.  But I’m sure we can have this discussion in a more comfortable location at a later date; I merely came to see you today to remind you that we are thinking of you.”

“I appreciate it,” Jun says coldly, turning his head to look out the window.

Touma stands to leave, but Yumi blocks the door.   _ Tsurugi is still outside and has no idea that Touma is here. _  Yumi’s heart pounds as he stares Touma down.

“Get out of the way, Tsukimitsu, before I have to reprimand you as well.”

A knock rattles the door behind Yumi’s back, and he’s forcefully reminded of the C3 guard in the hallway.  Can he afford an all-out battle with Touma Taisha and other C3 personnel, unarmed and in public?

Realizing that his hands are tied, Yumi opens the door and walks out ahead of Touma, positioning himself between him and the rest of the hallway.  Scanning his peripheral vision, he sees no sign of Tsurugi, and his blood goes cold. 

“Leave the building through the back stairs,” Yumi hisses, fists clenching, nails digging brutally into his palms. 

Touma just chuckles.  “Truly, a wild little dog,” he says in a dripping, languid voice.  “What could you possibly be protecting from me?  There’s nothing you can have that won’t eventually again be mine.”

All Yumi can muster in response is a furious gagging noise.  The empty hallway only offers Touma more protection—cameras lining the walls, the possibility that anyone who passes could be one of his men.   _ Anyone  _ could be: a nurse, a patient, a doctor, a  _ receptionist…  _  The hair on the back of Yumi’s neck stands up.

“Just  _ go,”  _ he barks breathlessly.

Touma laughs, a full, shoulder-shaking laugh, and he pats Yumi on the shoulder.  But he does walk off in the direction of the back stairs, rather than going the other way past the waiting room, where Yumi hopes Tsurugi has just gone.  The second Touma is out of view, Yumi turns on his heels and jogs over to the waiting room, heart strangling his throat, panic seizing his muscles.

He whips around the corner. 

“Papa Yumi!”  A voice cries out, and then a small weight smacks into Yumi somewhere around the knee.

“Takuto?”  Yumi squats down to the toddler’s level and scoops him up.  “What are you doing here?”

But his question is answered for him when he glances up again.  In the far corner of the waiting room, Tsurugi is curled up in one of the chairs, his head cradled on Mrs. Kurumamori’s shoulder.  Yumi’s breath leaves him in a rush, and the air he sucks back in makes him dizzy with relief.

“Are you okay, Papa Yumi?” Takuto asks, his little hand touching Yumi’s cheek.

Yumi shakes his head a bit, trying to dispel the ringing in his ears.  But he manages a smile for Takuto, and says, “Yeah, I’m fine, kiddo.  Let’s go over to your grandma and Papa Tsurugi.”  He bounces Takuto a little with every step they take, and by the time they reach the corner Takuto is giggling wildly.

“Let’s go in, Tsurugi,” Yumi says, putting Takuto down on the ground.  Adrenaline still lingering in his blood, Yumi would rather risk surprising Jun than letting Tsurugi out of his sight again while they’re in the hospital.

Jun’s mother strokes Tsurugi’s hair back from his forehead.  “Come get us when you boys are done talking, alright?” she says, hugging him tightly, then letting him go.

The walk from the waiting area to Jun’s room feels longer now that Tsurugi is walking beside him, gait slowing and picking up pace erratically as they get closer.  Yumi holds the door open for him to walk in, but Tsurugi pauses, feet locked in place, right in the doorway.  Yumi plants his hand on his back and shoves him in, and he can feel him shaking through his clothes.

“Hello, Tsurugi,” Jun says softly from the bed.

Tsurugi doesn’t respond.  He shakes his head and takes a step back, only to smack into Yumi.

“Just talk to him,” Yumi mutters, gripping his shoulder.

“Jun-chan—“ Tsurugi tries, but his voice cracks into silence and he clutches his throat with a little whine.

“I’m sorry,” Jun says.  And Tsurugi’s face twists, he tries to speak, but before he can he doubles over as if he’s going to be sick.

His legs crumple, and Yumi just barely manages to grab him under his arm and keep him upright.  His hair hangs in his face; his muscles are slack and nonresponsive.  His breath comes quick and rasping.

“Please just hear me out,” Jun continues, voice breaking.  “Tsurugi, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for everything.  I—we—let this go so far, too, too far.  All three of us.  But mostly me—mostly Yumi and myself.  We should have been more supportive for you.  We could have helped—“

“Stop,” Tsurugi says hollowly, still hanging limply from Yumi’s grasp.  “Stop apologizing.  You’ve already done too much.  Befriending something like me, when I can’t even repay you…you never let me repay you…and now look, look at what’s happened.”

Yumi tightens his arm around Tsurugi, who doesn’t fight being pulled in.  “You don’t ask payment from your friends,” he says, voice carefully even.

“I don’t blame you for what happened.  How could I?  I was there.  Touma  _ used  _ you to attack me.  And,” Jun holds up a hand to stop Tsurugi’s interruption, “that doesn’t mean that you  _ are  _ a tool.  You’re a person.  Just like me, just like Yumi, just like, I don’t know, Takuto.  You’re you, Kamiya Tsurugi.”

Hot tears roll slowly down Tsurugi’s cheeks, past his trembling lips, and drip onto the floor.  Yumi turns him around, just to wrap him fully in his arms, and press Tsurugi’s face into the crook of his neck, where he can cry without shame.

“It’s always been true,” Yumi murmurs, burying his fingers in Tsurugi’s hair.  “You’re our friend.  We’d do anything for you, just like we would for each other.  These things have just gone unsaid for too long.”

“We’re going to do better from now on,” Jun says firmly, echoing Yumi’s anguished thoughts.  “We’re going to be honest with each other, even when it hurts.  It will take time and work, but we owe it to each other.”

“We all have too many secrets,” Yumi agrees.  “It’s time we let some go.  We’re not good at feelings shit, but hell…this family right here is the most important thing in my life, and…”

Tsurugi’s arms hang limp at his sides, even though Yumi doesn’t intend on letting him out of his embrace anytime soon.  His wet face lays listless in the crook of Yumi’s neck.  “I don’t deserve…” he begins in a voice so thin it’s almost inaudible.

“You  _ do.”  _ Yumi says firmly, hugging him tighter, resting his chin on Tsurugi’s shoulders, squeezing his burning eyes shut.

“We all do,” Jun adds.  “We’ve all made mistakes.  We’ve all—“

Suddenly, every muscle in Tsurugi’s body tenses up.  He shoves Yumi away from him, who staggers back, thrown off-balance by surprise. 

“I can’t  _ believe—“  _ he begins with emotion strangling his voice, but then something in him seems to shut down, and he continues in a flat, dull voice.  “I can’t believe you guys.  Excusing what I’ve done?  After all the ways I’ve hurt you, put you in danger?  What has Yumi done that needs forgiving?  What have you done, Jun?  It’s just me.  And…and the more times you forgive me, the more times I’m going to end up hurting you.  I should just—“

Yumi doesn’t let him finish that sentence.  “Why the  _ hell  _ are you always telling us not to forgive you?  What do you want from us?  If you want someone to punish you, that person won’t be either of us.  Because we just want to  _ help!” _

“We all want the same things.”  Jun’s face is solemn, though his hair sticks up in the back and his glasses are slightly askew.  “We all want to protect each other; we all want our family to be safe.  We just need to communicate better, and realize that we can avoid a lot of hurt by being honest.”

Jun’s unable to get out of bed, unable to comfort anyone physically, forced to just watch as Yumi and Tsurugi circle each other across the room.  Yumi goes back to Tsurugi’s side, and sticks out his hand, trying, as always, to bring them closer together.

“We’ve known each other for twenty years,” he says.  “There have been so many times our friendship could have fallen apart, and it didn’t.  There have been times when we could have left you behind, but it never even crossed our minds.  We’ve fought everything that’s tried to separate us; now all we have to do is regroup and fight some more.  Tsurugi, we’re so much better with you than without you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Tsurugi puts his hand in Yumi’s.  Yumi leads him closer to Jun’s bedside, where Jun can take his other hand.

“I apologize because someone should,” Jun says, “because your life has been so hard, and you need someone to tell you that it’s not your fault.  Because we care about you.”

Tsurugi hangs his head, and Jun and Yumi tense and ready themselves to argue some more.  But instead, Tsurugi just throws his head back again and laughs, a full laugh from his stomach.  When he recovers, tears are streaming from his eyes, and he says, “You two are so fucking sappy.  We’re ridiculous.  You two—“  And he’s overtaken by giggles again.

His hands tighten around both his friends’, though, and when Yumi makes eye contact with Jun from across Tsurugi, he knows that they have both received the same message.

_ Thank you. _

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter was the original ending of the fic, and then i was going to switch over into tsurugi's point of view for a fluffy epilogue. but then when i was trying to write said epilogue i kind of realized that there was still a bit of a pile of issues for yumi to work out, so it became this chapter instead. there will still be a fluffy epilogue, though, don't worry.

Takuto can’t be contained much longer, so Tsurugi has barely pulled himself together when the toddler is pushing the door open and bouncing into the room.  His grandma has to grab him and hoist him up before he launches himself right into his father’s hospital bed.

As the visit goes on, Tsurugi ends up sitting in a chair in the corner, allowing Mrs. Kurumamori to take the seat next to the bed, where she can hold her son’s hand and talk with him properly for the first time in several weeks.  Yumi leans against the doorjamb with his arms tightly folded, switching between staring at every person in the room and glaring through the glass to the hallway outside.  No chatter from Takuto or beckoning from Jun’s mother can dislodge him from his corner; he just waves them off with a tense smile and a fake laugh.

If they’ve really sworn to be more open and honest with each other for everyone’s benefit, Yumi’s not getting off to a wonderful start.

Tsurugi wants to go to him, but Takuto settles himself in his lap, and Tsurugi has to let it go, just until they’re alone again.   _ I can do this,  _ he thinks, remembering the feeling of Yumi rubbing his back when he was so in shock he couldn’t speak.  Now it’s his turn to be the comforter, though he’s not even sure what’s turning Yumi all brooding and wary.

After Mrs. Kurumamori and Takuto leave (because even a special occasion like seeing Jun can’t interfere with Takuto’s bedtime), Tsurugi goes to the visitor bathroom to splash some cold water on his tired, red eyes.  It takes a little arguing to stop Yumi from following him there; Yumi, dark-eyed and distracted and swaying with exhaustion, nearly refuses to let Tsurugi out of his sight until Jun fixes him with a look and commands him to sit down.  Tsurugi might normally whine and tease about his grumpy guardian angel, but this time there’s nothing funny at all about the way Yumi’s hands had gripped him, so tightly, so desperately.

If he has to deal with a little more nagging for a while, it’s a small price to pay for his friend’s peace of mind.

Tsurugi blots his face off and heads back down the hallway.  As he goes, he’s peppered by sympathetic looks from everyone he passes; crying in a hospital bathroom, after all, is hardly a private act.  But he ignores them.

He stops short in Jun’s doorway.  Jun is reclining against his pillows, eyes closed; Yumi is nowhere to be seen.  Tsurugi hesitates with one foot in the door.  Making too much noise could wake Jun up; being alone in the same room with him could flip a switch in Tsurugi’s brain, some latent part of the spell, and make him attack again.

“I’m not asleep,” Jun says, cracking one eye open.  “Just resting.  Turns out being in the hospital takes a lot out of you, and three-year-olds—even Takuto—are exhausting.  Please come in.”

Tsurugi does, settling in on the edge of the chair, ready to bolt at any moment.  “Where’s Yumi?” he asks, digging his fingertips into the cheap plastic seat.

“I told him to go get us some coffee because his pacing was driving me nuts.  I just wanted to keep him occupied until you got back so he wouldn’t go rushing off and drag you back.”

Tsurugi’s shoulders hunch.  “He isn’t doing a very good job with this whole openness and honesty thing.”

“The two of us will work on him.  It’s been a rough time for him, the way he is.  He hates not being able to wave his magic wand and fix everything.”

“Well, that’s stupid.  He’s done everything already, keeping the three of us together.”

Jun smiles briefly, fondly, but then grows serious again.  “I have an idea of what might have him so tense,” he says.  When Tsurugi quirks a curious eyebrow, he takes a deep breath and continues, holding eye contact.  “Earlier today, about when you and he arrived at the hospital, Touma was sitting right where you are now.”

Tsurugi starts tapping one finger on the underside of the chair.  He clears his throat, then does it again, drawing into himself and trying to shrink down.  A specter hovering over him, a weight’s descended on his shoulders--He’s not sure if he wants to melt through the floor or if he wants to leap up immediately, body rebelling from touching anything Touma has touched.  But Jun is still speaking, so he stays still and latches onto that voice to tether himself to reality.

“Yumi probably doesn’t want me to tell you; he’s so worried that anything will set you off.  But that’s another part of the reason I sent him away.  Touma didn’t even mention you while he was here, and I can’t figure why.  But you need to know, so you can decide for yourself the best way to protect yourself.”

Tsurugi nods.  “Thank you.  Yumi is…”

“Overprotective.”

“Something like that.  But thank you for telling me; for not treating me like I’m made of glass.” 

_ For trusting me,  _ Tsurugi realizes.  “Thank you,” Tsurugi says again, and Jun finally smiles for real.  Even though Tsurugi still feels slightly detached, like his body isn’t his own, this proof of Jun’s faith in him is too precious to regret.

Jun removes his glasses and puts them on the bed beside him, yawning hugely.  “Well, with all the serious stuff out of the way, we can move on, right?  Yumi tells me there’s been a development in  _ your  _ life that we really need to discuss.”

“All the serious stuff is out of the way, so let’s get lighthearted!  Let’s talk about vampires,” Tsurugi says, cackling at the smug look Jun always gets on his face when someone gets one of his lame jokes.

“So what did happen?” Jun asks.

“There isn’t that much to tell.  After we--” Tsurugi’s voice breaks off, but Jun doesn’t comment on it or change his demeanor at all, so Tsurugi continues, “After we fought and the power went out, I don’t really remember much of what happened.  All I remember is water, and drowning, and being left behind.  But The Mother found me, and she told me to give her a name so that she could save me.  I wasn’t really all there...my memories are vague until a day or so before Mother brought Yumi to me…”  Just a dark hotel room, drifting in and out of consciousness, the pain in his chest and throat from drowning and crying and retching. Just a dark hotel room, and The Mother’s protective presence, and muscles too weak to let him do anything but sleep.

Sitting here now, only a couple feet from a living and breathing Junichirou, Tsurugi can’t yet be sure if that weakness was a good thing or a bad thing.  How much longer until the blackness that surrounds his throat like a noose comes to life again and hurts someone else?

But here he is.  And here Jun is, and Yumi, and his family…

And now there’s Wrath, who, if he knows anything, he knows will protect him and protect everyone  _ from him.   _ If necessary.  Because she understands how it feels to be the one hurting others, and she knows that there’s nothing worse he would ever need to be saved from than himself.

Jun is stroking his chin thoughtfully, and Tsurugi snickers.  He always looks so professorial, so grumpy, when he’s thinking.  

“How will we work this when considering C3…” he muses.

“We?” Tsurugi asks, surprised despite himself at Jun’s casual statement of allegiance with him.

“Of course.  After everything, we’re certainly going to stick together now.”

At that moment, Yumi reappears.  Some sort of cloud still follows him, a heaviness and a darkness to his demeanor that is very worrying, but he brightens up a bit and manages a tiny smile when he sees Tsurugi and Jun together.  He hands them both little paper cups of coffee, and once his hands are free he dumps his pockets out onto the bed, showering Jun’s knees in little packets of sugar and creamer.

Yumi’s arrival brings the conversation to a grinding halt.  Jun’s face turns serious and, suddenly seized by the need to deflect, to ease the tension, to find some relief for his rabbiting pulse, Tsurugi pipes up.

“But Yumi-chan,” he whines, flopping against the bed, “You emptied your pockets, but you didn’t bring me any lint!  I can’t drink my coffee without pocket lint!”  And then he dives forward, shoving his hands into Yumi’s jacket pockets.  Yumi squawks, holding his own coffee out of the way and trying to squirm away from his sudden lapful of giggling Tsurugi.

“You two are clearly feeling better,” Yumi says.  The fact that he doesn’t even try to shove Tsurugi away, even jokingly, makes Tsurugi pull back all on his own.

“Yumi…” he begins, but Jun interrupts him.

“I just told Tsurugi that Touma was here,” he says cautiously.

“You did what?  Fuck--!” Yumi swears, jerking to his feet.  His hands clench instinctively, and he crushes his own coffee cup, sending scalding liquid all over his hand and front.  “ _ Fuck!”  _ he curses again, clutching his hand to his chest and trying to strip off his shirt at the same time.

Tsurugi jumps up to help, but Yumi turns away from him, hiding his face with his unburnt hand.  The commotion draws a nurse to the room, and she gasps in surprise, rushing over to check Yumi’s hand.  Upon noticing the splotchy redness on his bare torso as well, she drags him away to a cool shower, to stop the burns from getting any worse.

In the vacuum silence they leave in their wake, Tsurugi returns very slowly to his chair.  Jun is ashen-faced, fists clenched in the sheets.

“That could have gone better,” Jun says weakly.  Tsurugi opens his mouth to respond, but he loses the words.  What is there to say?   _ Maybe nothing could have gone better, not when I’m involved, not when Yumi is too afraid of me breaking.   _ The stupid thought hovers unbidden at the forefront of his mind.  Melodramatic, unkind, unfair--but unavoidable, burning Tsurugi’s throat with shame, weighing his eyelids further down.

What would Jun even say if he voiced the thought?

God, Tsurugi just wants to sleep.

When Yumi returns, his hand is wrapped in plastic and his mood has only blackened further.  Tsurugi gets the terrible urge to hide, to squeeze himself into a cabinet or under a bed, to get away from the pain and stress and exhaustion his friend is oozing from his skin.

“Yumi,” Jun starts, but he doesn’t get very far.

“I know! I know I overreacted, okay?  Fuck,” Yumi snaps.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“Just hearing his name makes me want to  _ hurt  _ something,” Yumi continues, kicking Jun’s bedframe sharply. 

“Touma’s?”

“ _ Yes!  _ He was right here, he was right fucking here, Jun—he could’ve done anything; he could’ve killed you; he could’ve taken Tsurugi; he could’ve…” Yumi shoves his uninjured hand through his hair.  “Fuck, he was like fifty feet away from  _ Takuto!  _ But I could have done something about it—I almost did, I could have fucking ended him and this all would have been over!   _ Fuck!”  _ He kicks the bed again. 

Tsurugi looks Yumi up and down.  He looks disheveled; his hair is held sloppily into a bun, and the plain t-shirt the nurse gave him to replace his coffee-stained one is too big for him and a far cry from his usual meticulous outfits.  The dark bags beneath his wild, glassy eyes nearly eclipse his face.   _ If I reached out to him right now, what would happen?  _  He’s too scared of the answer to try, too full of half-conjured images of Yumi pulling away, looking at him in disgust, or of his comfort just failing completely.

“You would have been arrested, if the C3 guards hadn’t killed you first,” Jun responds.  “We went over this.  Killing him today wouldn’t have solved anything—“

“Yes it fucking  _ would have!”  _ Yumi’s chest heaves, and he is clearly barely keeping himself from screaming. 

Tsurugi’s heart pounds sickly in his chest.  He’s not any good at this, at defusing situations.  What if he interrupts and one or both of them turns on him?  His stomach churns, and he wraps an arm around his middle.

“And what good would it have done?” Jun demands, leaning forward, a scowl fixed to his jaw.  “What good would you be dead or in prison?  You spend all this time lecturing Tsurugi and I about being reckless, and now you’re beating yourself up about not doing something that would take you away from us forever?  For goodness’s sake, Yumi!”

“That fucker would be dead, that’s what good it would have done.  He’d never be able to fuck anyone else up ever again.  I’d have torn him apart with my bare fucking hands, that’s what good it would have done.”

Jun sits back and folds his hands in his lap.  There’s a beat of silence, and at the same time Jun takes in a deep breath, Tsurugi finds himself holding his own.

“Killing Touma now won’t absolve you of the guilt you feel for letting him hurt Tsurugi for all these years.”

It’s like Jun just pulled out a knife and stabbed Yumi in the gut.  Yumi physically recoils from his words, face going gray, mouth falling open. 

Tsurugi’s face flushes.   _ Don’t look at me,  _ he wants to say, wants to yell, wants to curl into a ball and hide from even the possibility that Jun and Yumi will turn their gazes on him.   _ I’m sorry,  _ he’d say, if it meant anything, if it would do any good.   _ I’m not worth it.   _ The words buzz in his mind and on his tongue, well up from his lungs and his stomach and his brain.   _ Please don’t care, please ignore me when I hurt, I love you both too much to let this happen, I’m sorry. _

“I’m sorry, Yumi, but we both know it’s true.  How do you think I knew what you were thinking?  I feel it too.  We’ve been negligent, despicable, and cruel, and Tsurugi deserves better than us.  Right?”

Yumi takes another step back.  He lifts a shaking hand to cover his face.

In Tsurugi’s mind, he sees Yumi bent double on the floor of his apartment, sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe, so hard he nearly lost consciousness.  And now, in this moment, he sees the shadow of the same: Yumi’s shoulders trembling with tension, his eyes looking anywhere but at Jun or Tsurugi, the weakness of his knees.

Tsurugi is on his feet before indecision can hold him back again.

Jun and Yumi both jump when the chair scrapes across the floor, and with the tension broken, Yumi snaps.  He turns on his heel and hurries to the door, but Tsurugi grabs his wrist before he can escape.

“Stay, Yumi-chan.  Please.”

Yumi’s hand clenches into a fist, and Tsurugi tightens his grip.

“Tsurugi…” Yumi croaks, “After hearing all that, why do you still even want me around?  Jun’s fucking right, okay?  Nothing I do will ever make it right.  I can never make it up to you.  I knew you were being hurt, and I just…”

“Maybe you were right before, and all we have to do is forgive each other,” Tsurugi interrupts.  “Maybe…maybe this is how openness and honesty works?”  Jun and Yumi both fix Tsurugi with intense stares; he shivers under the full attention of both his friends, anxiety making it harder to speak.  “It just seems like…I mean, I know that I feel like I don’t deserve friends like you.  And apparently you both feel like I deserve better than you.  Maybe, maybe what we need is just this.  Acknowledging each other.  And forgiving.”  He glances around.  “Please stop staring at me.  I’m only trying to do what—“

Yumi twists his wrist out of Tsurugi’s grasp, but he doesn’t do it to pull away.  Rather, he slides his hand down to clasp Tsurugi’s.

“We’re a fucking mess,” Yumi says.  “A giant, fucked-up mess.”

“You’re right, Tsurugi,” Jun translates.  Tsurugi glances over at the bed, only to see Jun wiping his own eyes.  “This is it.  This is going to be our first step.  I’m sorry that I was so aggressive, Yumi.”

“No, I needed to hear it.  ‘S not like you were wrong.  And now…we can move on.  Right?”

“Right,” Jun agrees.

A brief moment passes.  Jun clears his throat and sniffles a bit.  Yumi coughs once and slowly threads his fingers through Tsurugi’s.  And Tsurugi...he looks at Jun trying to subtly wipe his nose, at the little blush in the tips of Yumi’s ears, and he suddenly can’t hold it in anymore.

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs until his sides hurt and tears of mirth are sliding down his face.  And Yumi joins in, blushing more fiercely, pulling Tsurugi in again not to hug him but just so their sides brush together.  And Jun joins in as well, and in this little hospital room the three of them finally let go of some of the load they’ve been carrying all this time.

Tsurugi has barely caught his breath by the time Jun, truly exhausted and, after all, still injured, is dozing back against his pillows.  

Yumi grins crookedly, awkwardly, at Tsurugi, and whispers, “Alright, let’s tuck him in and get out of here before the nurses kick us out altogether.”

Jun makes a sleepy little noise, waking up just enough to hazily wave them goodbye, and then Tsurugi and Yumi are through the hospital and back out on the street.  Wrath rejoins them when they’re halfway across the parking lot, the setting sun allowing her to walk alongside them in human form.

“I look forward to meeting this Kurumamori Junichirou,” she says.

“It’s nice to be together again,” Tsurugi agrees.

It hurts to leave Jun behind, just like it will still hurt every time Tsurugi sees him in that hospital bed, forgiven or unforgiven.  It’s like picking at a scab, like prodding a bruise.  Old aches and new blisters and the hurts that hang on the horizon with Touma and the rest of C3—all of those things mist up and float away, leaving Tsurugi’s step lighter, letting him enjoy the sound of the breeze and the cars in the street and the sight of the sunset glinting off Yumi’s blond hair.

The drive from the hospital to Yumi’s apartment takes about twenty minutes.  By the time they reach home, the sky has pulled back to reveal the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pretty much the last chapter of this fic, posted today to squeak it in before the new chapter is released and this fic fully becomes an AU ahaha. here's hoping that canon is at least as gentle on these boys as I am. 
> 
> i'm gonna follow this up with a short epilogue to finish the fic for real, and then it'll be done! thanks to everyone for reading :)


	8. Chapter 8

By the time Jun is discharged from the hospital, he’s accumulated at least a single suitcase’s worth of mementos and things in his hotel room (mostly from Takuto and Tsurugi, the resident Arbiter of Arts and Crafts).  Yumi hefts the suitcase one-handed over his shoulder and lets Tsurugi be the one to gallantly offer his arm to Jun and help him down the stairs and out to the car.

  
Yumi is very particular about being the one to pick the music when he’s driving, but after so many years of friendship Jun and Tsurugi know every song he likes to play and therefore can be sure to sing along as loudly and obnoxiously as possible.  Yumi gives in about halfway through the drive and adds his own voice to the din.

  
They pull up to Jun’s flat, and Yumi grabs the suitcase from the back.  Before Jun has a chance to even pull out his keys, the door flies open and Takuto leaps into his father’s arms.

  
“Oof!” Jun complains, catching the toddler and holding him up dramatically.  “By god, have you grown a foot since I last did this?”

  
“No, Papa!” Takuto giggles and kicks his feet.  

  
“Alright, then.  Good.  That means I didn’t miss much after all.” He puts the kid back on the ground, where he immediately bounds off to repeat his tackle-hug routine on Tsurugi.  

  
“I missed you, Papa Tsurugi,” Takuto says, throwing his arms around Tsurugi’s neck.  

  
Being around Takuto is still enough to get Tsurugi choked up.   _ Maybe I should tell that to Jun and Yumi _ , he thinks, in the spirit of openness and honesty.

  
Yumi hip-checks Tsurugi’s ass on his way inside, a playful bump accompanied by a “hurry up and help us go through Jun’s mail and shit, you’re not lucky enough to just be on babysitting duty here.”

  
And Tsurugi follows them inside, Takuto still holding onto his shoulders, heart full to bursting.

  
\--

  
Tsurugi is the one to tuck Takuto into bed that night, him being the only one with even close to enough energy to keep up with the toddler after Jun’s stint in the hospital and Yumi’s insomnia.  He reads him a bedtime story and kisses him on the forehead, pulling his blankets up and leaving as soon as his yawns turn into little snores.

  
Yawning himself, Tsurugi plods over to the hall closet to grab some blankets and pillows to make the couch into a bed.  He’s unsure of where Yumi got to; he might be sleeping out in the car to avoid getting press-ganged into breakfast duty, potentially.  

  
As he passes the open doorway of Jun’s bedroom with his arms full of bedding, he hears Jun softly call his name.  He sticks his head into the door and then can’t help the little smile that spreads across his face.

  
Jun is stretched out on one side of the bed, surrounded by pillows.  On the other side is Yumi, curled up on his side and facing the door, still sporting deep bags under his eyes but with his brow unfurrowed.  Jun beckons Tsurugi over and pats the bed beside him, the little space in the middle.

  
Tsurugi considers arguing; he doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, he doesn’t want to risk waking Yumi up—what if Takuto needs one of them in the night?  But then Jun beckons him again, and Yumi’s foot twitches cutely, and before he knows it Tsurugi is sliding into bed between them.

  
The moment he settles in, Jun tucks his arm around him, and the dip Tsurugi makes in the mattress makes Yumi slide a little closer.  Tsurugi’s heart jumps giddily, and he tries to lay perfectly still.

  
“Relax,” Jun sighs, rubbing his shoulder.

  
“Mmn,” Yumi groans hazily, and he rolls over, nestling down even closer to Tsurugi.  Sleeping in the middle apparently makes you a volunteer to be a communal teddy bear.

  
Yumi is so warm next to him.  All three of them haven’t shared a bed like this in over a decade, but rather than feeling awkward Tsurugi settles into the peace and comfort this simple intimacy offers.  Yumi throws an arm over Tsurugi’s middle and nuzzles his face into Tsurugi’s temple, and Tsurugi can’t help but giggle quietly at how handsy Yumi is.

  
“We should do this more often,” Tsurugi says, closing his eyes and letting the warmth of their shared body heat wash over him.

  
“We’ll see,” Jun says with a light chuckle.  “You two can cuddle all you want; I’m reserving my judgment until I see how much either of you kicks in your sleep.”

  
Tsurugi drifts off to sleep with Jun’s arm around his shoulders and Yumi’s whole body nestled against him in various, shifting ways; Yumi’s a restless sleeper, but Tsurugi only relishes each little movement.  In this little bubble of warmth, the whole world feels very safe and far away.

  
Nestled between his two best friends and lulled to sleep by the love in his own heart, the world holds no more monsters than the ones that hide under the bed.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, everyone! this is my Very Optimistic view on what should happen going forward in the manga lmao. pls, strike tanaka, let the c3 trio just cuddle and have joy...
> 
> yall can find me over at haloud.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> the C3 trio is going to kill me. I have most of this work already written, so no need to worry about me abandoning it haha. should be six chapters and an epilogue. come talk to me about servamp at haloud.tumblr.com


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